Last weekend, I gathered with 14 other women for the first Soul-Centered Aging retreat. The intention for the weekend was: To explore the spiritual and practical wisdom of conscious aging through reflection and dialogue.
Mission Accomplished.
There is a depth to the conversations shared by a group of women who have entered their wisdom years. I knew there would be honesty, vulnerability and laughter. My expectations were exceeded. I’m still smiling.
It didn’t always look like it was going to work out so well. About a month before the retreat, I realized I couldn’t do it alone. I had planned, organized, marketed (sold out!) and created the content myself. I had one other person presenting an afternoon workshop, but beyond her involvement, I was carrying the weight of the weekend. My growing to-do list was overwhelming. I had lists breaking down into more lists as I considered swag bags, decorating, printing, email communication, snacks, etc. It was too much for one person. Even me, determined as I was to handle everything.
In my monthly discussion group, a friend shared a phrase she had heard, “You can’t crone alone.” It stuck with me. I lean towards hyper-independence. I don’t need to explain the root of that condition, but I can tell you it hasn’t always served me well.
Fortunately, I have a good friend who was willing and available to help me with all that remained to complete. All I had to do was ask. After I did, I felt quite supported. She led the opening part of the sessions, arrived early to help set up, took care of registration at the event, and so much more. I didn’t need to do it alone.
I anticipate I will revisit this lesson frequently in this third act of life. This month, I have a colonoscopy scheduled, and my husband has cataract surgery. There was a moment of panic when we realized that the procedures might overlap. He wouldn’t be able to drive me to my appointment. I told my daughter about my concern, and she reminded me, I didn’t need to worry. She could take me to my appointment. All I had to do was ask.
Asking for help doesn’t come easy to many of us. I don’t think it gets easier as we age. In my case, the apple doesn’t fall far from the tree. My 86-year-old mother is still living independently and doesn’t like to ask for help. Or take it when offered. I hope you are reading this Mum!
The truth is, we can’t crone alone. We need each other. We need our communities at every stage of our life. There is no shame in asking for help. And there is no wisdom or merit in doing everything yourself.
I’ve realized something else about our need for a supportive community. We need company not just in the doing in our lives. We need it in the being of our lives. When I sat with fourteen women talking about aging, mortality, life review, forgiveness, healing, legacy and more, I witnessed how valuable it is to do this work together. This work of conscious aging is communal. Our conversations helped us to understand that much of our experience is shared by others. We found healing as we processed our stories.
It’s a crucial lesson for those of us who aspire to be wise elders in our communities. You can’t crone alone.
Journal and discussion prompt:
How comfortable are you asking for help? Where does your resistance to asking for help come from? How can you reframe it?
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